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Hi I’m Timmy! I’m nine years old! I review beer now my foster pop says I will! Today I got a big bottle from a real close by beerery called Fulton. They said it’s called Worthy Adversary but I’m gonna call it Embarrassing Problem because that’s what most beers this dark make me have. Foster pop (FP) laid a whole big bunch of newspaper on the floor around me so I guess here we go!

Oh Woww! Look at it fizz up! It looks like my oatmeal after FP heats it up to get the sour taste out of the milk. Mmmm! Smells like chocolate, my favorite. Smells like straight Ovaltine powder that I eat dry cause I can’t microwave it with sour milk like oatmeal FP says it’s too flamey and that’s how grammy and grampy (FGG, the ‘F’ stands for ‘fake’) got buried underneath the hospital like FP says I’ll be one day! Speakin’ of which, I smell that creepy hint of blood or metal or one caused by the other that I always get from dark beers. Just a wittle bit though, not enough to take over the cocoa powder… Oh No beer’s getting WARM!!! Now it is taking over! Better pour in more of the cold stuff. Foster Pop!

Anywhats, the other stuff I smelled was banana which the man who FP owes money to and is now living in my room and ALWAYS has a big bottle of rotted poo-poo smell farting next to my toys tells me that the banana’s the ‘easters’ that the yeast make (just like my chopped-up old nanners that really reek [fermented by micwobial government spies; demons of the democrats, the beer expert says to me]). If I was an expert I’d say this beer was pooed out of an English kinda yeast, one that quits too early, in mockery of FP’s employment history, letting a bunch of the tasty sugars stay in the beer to get eaten by me! Thanks for the scarcely-nutritious tip little guys!!

This sure does taste good! Sometimes when I first sip I get weird flashbacks I can’t explain. Some have a magic marker kinda smell while some have an old man’s beard smell to ‘em but they only last a second. These sparkle-quick whiff-flashes are always fastly replaced with the smell of the Fulton breerery’s tapwoom, which I now am sure is where these flashbacks took place. Here, let my just grab some crayons:


What’s that big man doing?


Oh yeah, i’was just Foster Pop!

Uh oh! My dirty business is creeping down to a newspaper ad that says Liquor Boy in St. Louis Park has this for $11. I’d go ten weeks without an allowance for this but maybe not eleven. I suppose, given this kinda measurement, my score’d be 90.9090909090…% which my teacher Ms. Nonexistent would then have to give an A- to. Whelp, until next time… (Which is when I wake up)